"Benefactor and neighbor," said he, "I have come with the salute which was due you, but also, as you must have divined, with a request which, in view of my age, you, I trust, will give ear to most kindly."

"I will yield gladly to every proper wish which you may utter," said Pan Serafin.

The old man began to rub his hands.

"I knew that! I knew it beforehand," said he. "What a thing it is to deal with a man who has real wisdom; one comes to an agreement immediately. I said to my son 'Leave that to me! the moment,' said I, 'that thou hast to do with Pan Serafin all will go well, for there is not another man, not merely so wise, but so honorable in this region.'"

"You praise me too greatly."

"No, no, I say too little. But let us come to the question."

"Let us."

Old Krepetski was silent for a while, as if seeking expressions. He merely moved his jaws, so that his chin met his nose. At last he laughed joyously, put his hand on Pan Serafin's knee, and continued,--

"My benefactor, you see our goldfinch has flown from the cage."

"I know. Because the cat frightened it."

"Is there not pleasure in talking with such people?" cried the old man, rubbing his hands. "Oh, that is wit! The prelate Tvorkovski would burst with envy, as G.o.d is dear to me!"

"I am listening."

"Well, to the question, and straight from the bridge. We should like to take back that goldfinch."

"Why should you not?"

Pan Krepetski moved his chin toward his nose once, and a second time.

He was alarmed; the affair went too easily; but he clapped his hands, and cried with feigned joyousness,--

"Well, now the affair is finished! Would to G.o.d that such men as you were born everywhere!"

"It is finished so far as I am concerned," said Pan Serafin. "Only there is need to ask that little bird whether she wants to go back again; besides she cannot go back to-day, for your son has so throttled her that she is barely breathing."

"Is she sick?"

"Sick; she is lying in bed."

"But is she not pretending?"

Pan Serafin's face grew dark in a moment.

"My gracious sir," said he, "let us talk seriously. Your son Martsian has acted unworthily with Panna Anulka, not in human fashion, and not as a n.o.ble; he has acted altogether with infamy. Before G.o.d and man you have offended grievously to give an orphan into hands such as his, and intrust her to a tyrant so shameless."

"There is not a bit of truth in what she says," cried the old man.

"Why not? You know not what she has said, and still you deny. It is not she who is speaking; blue lumps and marks of blows speak for her, marks which my housekeeper saw on her young body. As to Martsian, all the servants in Belchantska have seen his approaches and his cruelty, and are ready to testify when needed. In my house is Vilchopolski who is going to-day to Radom to tell the prelate Tvorkovski what has happened."

"But you have promised to give me the girl."

"No, I only said that I would not detain her. If she wants to go back, very well! If she wishes to stay with me, very well also! But attempt not to bring me to refuse my roof and a morsel of bread to an orphan who is grievously offended."

Old Krepetski's jaws moved time after time. For a while he was silent, and then began,--

"You are right, and you are wrong. To refuse a shelter and bread to an orphan would be unworthy, but as a wise man consider that it is one thing not to refuse hospitality, and something different to stand with rebellion against the authority of a father. I love Tekla, my youngest daughter, sincerely, but it happens sometimes that I give her a push.

Well, what then? If she, after being punished by me, should flee to you, would you not permit me to take her, or would you refer me to her pleasure? Think of this--what sort of order would there be in the world, if women had their will? A married woman, even when old, must hearken to her husband, and yield to him; but what must it be in the case of an immature girl, as against the commands of her father, or guardian?"

"Panna Anulka is not your daughter, nor even your relative."

"But we inherited the guardianship over her from Pan Gideon. If Pan Gideon had punished the girl, you, of course, would not have had a word against him; but it is the same thing touching me and my son, to whom I have committed the management of Belchantska. Some one must manage, some one must have authority to punish. Difficult to do without that. I do not deny that Martsian, as a man, young and impulsive, exceeded the measure, perhaps, especially since he was met with ingrat.i.tude. But that is my affair! I will examine, judge, and punish; but I will take the girl back, and I think, with your permission, that even the king himself would have no right to raise any hindrance."

"You speak as in a tribunal," said Pan Serafin. "I do not deny that you have appearances on your side; but appearance is one thing, and the real truth another. I do not wish to hinder you in anything, but I tell you honestly what the opinion of people is, and with that opinion I advise you to reckon. For you it is not a question of Panna Anulka, nor of guardianship over her, but you suspect that there may be a will in the hands of the prelate, with a provision for the young lady, therefore you are afraid that Belchantska might slip from you together with Panna Anulka. Not long ago I heard one of the neighbors speak in this way: 'Were it not for that uncertainty the Krepetskis would be the first to drive the orphan from the house, for those people have not G.o.d in their hearts.' It is very disagreeable for me and repulsive to say such things in my house to you, but you ought to know them."

Flames of anger gleamed in the eyes of the old man, but he controlled himself, and said with a voice which was quiet, though somewhat broken,--

"The malice of people! Low malice, nothing more, and stupidity besides that. How could it be? We would then drive from the house a young lady whom Martsian wants to marry? By the dear G.o.d, think over this! The two things do not hold together."

"They talk in this way: 'If it shall appear that Belchantska is hers then Martsian will marry her, but if the place is not hers he will simply disgrace her.' I am not any man's conscience, so I merely repeat what people say, but with this addition of my own, that your son threatened shame to the girl. I know that surely, and you, who know Martsian and his vile desires, know it also."

"I know one and another thing, but I know not what you wish to say."

"What I wish to say? This, which I have said to you already. If Panna Anulka agrees to return to you I have no right to oppose her or you, but if she is not willing, I will not expel her from this house, for I have given my word not to do so."

"The question is not that you should expel her, but that you should permit me to take her, just as you would permit me if one of my own daughters were with you. This only I beg, that you stand not in my way."

"Then I will tell you clearly. I will permit no violence in my house! I am master, and you, who have just mentioned the king, should understand that on this point the king himself could not oppose me."

On hearing this Pan Krepetski balled his fists, so that his palms were pierced by his finger-nails.

"Violence? That is just what I fear. I, if ever I have had to act against people (and who has not had to deal with the malice of men?), have acted against them through the law, always, not through violence.

But what the proverb says is not true, that the apple falls near its tree.--It falls far away sometimes. I, for your good and safety, desired to settle this question in peacefulness. You are undefended in the forest, while Martsian--it is grievous for a father to say this of a son--has not taken after me in any way. I am ashamed to confess it, but I am not able to answer for him. The whole district is in dread of his pa.s.sionateness, and justly, for he is ready to disregard everything and he has about fifty sabres at his order. You, on the other hand, are unarmed. I repeat it, you live in the forest, and I advise you to reckon with this situation. I am alarmed myself at it."

Hereupon Pan Serafin rose, walked up to Krepetski, and gazed into his eyes.

"Do you wish to frighten me?" inquired he.

"I am afraid myself," repeated the old man.

But their further conversation was interrupted by sudden shouts in the courtyard from the direction of the granary and the kitchen, so they sprang to the open window, and at the first moment were petrified with amazement. There between two fences ran with tremendous speed toward the gate and the courtyard some kind of rare monster, unlike any creature on earth, and behind it on excited horses dashed the four Bukoyemskis, shouting and cutting the air with their whip-lashes. The monster rushed into the yard, and behind it came the brothers, like h.e.l.l hunters, and continued their chasing.

"Jesus, Mary!" cried out Pan Serafin.

He ran to the porch, and after him ran old Krepetski.

Only there could they see with more clearness. The monster seemed like a giant bird, but also like a horse and a rider, for it ran on four legs with a certain form sitting on it. But the rider and the beast were so covered with feathers that their heads seemed two bundles.

It was impossible to see clearly, for the steed rushed like a wind round the courtyard. The Bukoyemskis followed closely, and did not spare blows, by which feathers were torn away and fell to the ground, or circled in the air as do snowflakes.